An Infatuation
by Laury the Latrator
Summary: Pre-movie, The Amazing Spider-Man. Gwen Stacey was not your average girl. It was this that allowed her to do what no one else could: Notice Peter Parker.


Gwen Stacey was not your average girl. You wouldn't know it to look at her; at first glance she appeared to be a perfectly ordinary teenager, perhaps with a more preppy or conservative taste in clothing than her peers. And yet, there was something about her that set her apart. Was it her wit? Her intelligence? Her kindness? Either way, it was this unknown quality that allowed her to do what no one else could:

Notice Peter Parker.

* * *

It was the first day of Spring, and with it came all the cliches. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the petals of the flowers were opening up to greet the day.

How loathsome, I thought dully. Granted, I'm usually more chipper than that, with a positively sunny outlook on life some might say. But you see, my sour mood was not to be swayed on this particular day. I was exhausted and grouchy and wanted nothing more than to put my head down and ignore the rest of the world.

My two brothers, Simon and Howard, had stayed up most of the night playing some video game. Mom and Dad were out on their mythical date-night. Every month the two would go on about an elegant night out to a pretentious restaurant, but I knew better. They actually just rented a hotel room downtown, and more often than not the night ended with Dad rushing off to the office and Mom pigging out on the mini-fridge. I was left the arduous task of watching my younger siblings, but no one respected me for it. The little dorks were impossible to wrangle. So, every hour I'd get up from my room to scold them, which turned into a fight, which left me stomping off to my room again to repeat the cycle. I was assaulted by the sounds of fake gunfire all night and couldn't sleep due to all my pent up frustration.

Therefore, I reasoned as I trudged into class, it would be understandable if I was less than my usual enthusiastic self.

I forwent my usual seat in the middle of class to sit all the way in the back right corner of the room. It was right by a quarter-opened window. I propped my head up on my hand and closed my eyes, letting the gentle breeze lull me into a peaceful state. It was only English, and I had a 4.0 anyway. Maybe I could afford to take a nap, just this once. That wouldn't be so disastrous, would it?

With or without any conscious decision, I probably would have fallen asleep in another minute, had someone not cleared their throat. My eyes snapped open guiltily, expecting to see the professor standing there and looking down at me in disappointment. I was mildly relieved and more than a little irritated to find that it was just another classmate.

"Um," He began quietly, "You're, uh…" I wasn't particularly in the mood to deal with prying the words out of this guy's mouth. So, to hopefully speed him up a bit, I raised a sort of condescending eyebrow as I waited. I looked him over carelessly, taking note of his hands wringing the strap of his backpack. The guy flushed, the fidgeting increasing. "That's, uh," He coughed a little, "That's my seat." He finally got out. I straightened in my chair, lack of sleep making me indignant over this minor slight.

"Actually," I said, in what Simon would describe as my best know-it-all tone, "Since Miss Ritter doesn't assign seats, it's the seat of whomever claims it when they walk into class. Today, it's mine." I winced faux-apologetically, hamming up the act. "Sorry, but trust me when I say I need it more right now." He stared at me for a minute before lowering his head. His hair flopped into his face in an endearing way. Looking disproportionately disappointed, he sulked over to the seat in front of me and sank heavily into it.

Maybe I felt a little guilty about taking his seat (or rather the seat he consistently sat in that in no way belonged to him), because I found myself staring at the back of his head. It's strange, I didn't think I'd ever seen him before. It was already a month into the semester, but I had no idea this guy was in my class. Probably because he would always be behind me, if this is where he sat. Did he not contribute in class? I made a point of always looking at whomever was speaking. How had he remained unnoticed for so long?

Really, for someone I'd never seen before, he wasn't bad to look at. Sure, all I could see from there was the back of his head and his slumped shoulders as he hunched over the desk, but from my little once over when he was speaking I was intrigued. He had brown eyes and a goofy kind of face. I liked his hair, a rich brunette that was the perfect combination of spiky and soft. His figure was lean, even if he hid it under that bulky mud-colored coat. His Adam's apple had jumped when he coughed, and I bet he looked great when he laughed.

I wanted to know more about this person. What was his name? What were his hobbies? Would he like me? I leaned forward in my chair, getting just a bit closer to him. A gust of wind blew in, and I got a face-full of his scent. I closed my eyes. Musky and a little sweet. I smiled to myself, but reality wormed its way into my corner of peace and my eyes flew open.

Oh my God, did I really just sniff this complete stranger?

Luckily Miss Ritter entered the classroom at that moment, keeping me occupied for the next 50 minutes. I was unable to dwell on my silly actions. However, if my eyes darted to him every once in a while, that was simply my innate curiosity. I certainly didn't notice that my fascination with him kept me from being tired.

Once the bell rang and Miss Ritter dismissed us, the class flew into motion. Unsure what motivated me, I gathered my things together slower than normal. I lingered at my desk, throwing glances at this mysterious boy. He too was dawdling, shoving his books carelessly into his backpack. As he stooped to pick up his skateboard (how had I not seen that before) I stood from my seat. When he straightened, he glanced at me. He blushed once he realized I was looking back at him. Deciding I'd have to be the one to extend the olive branch, I smiled tentatively at him. He blinked in silence, then walked away. Feeling my earlier disgruntlement return, I followed him out of the room, ignoring Miss Ritter's obvious inquisitive look.

I paused right outside the doorway, watching him get farther away. He'd put the skateboard down and was gliding through the crowded hall with ease. I always thought skateboarding was kind of stupid and dangerous, but even I had to admit it was pretty cool. A teacher stuck his head out of his classroom.

"No skateboarding in the halls, Mr. Parker!" He called, his apathetic drone nonetheless scolding. The guy hopped off his board and lifted it up. Using his free hand he gave the teacher a jaunty salute. The professor rolled his eyes at the sarcasm but retreated to his room. The guy took a couple steps before setting the skateboard back down and continuing to ride it around a corner. I couldn't help snorting at the humorous display. I turned and headed down the hall towards my next class, mulling over this new discovery.

Parker.

* * *

Peter went home that night and beat his head against the wall for not saying anything smooth or even remotely interesting to her. But then he got a goofy expression on his face when he thought about how she smiled at him. Needless to say, his Aunt and Uncle were worried. Uncle Ben went so far as to surreptitiously check him for a concussion.

* * *

When I walked into Mr. Cramer's class the next day, I paused in the door and swept my eyes over the room. Well what do you know. There in the back left corner sat the elusive Mr. Parker, hunched over the desk like he was trying to meld into it. No wonder he went unnoticed, he made such an effort to be invisible. Still, I was back to being my usual studious self, so I sat in the middle of the room. Time to push Mr. Parker out of my mind for a bit.

The bell rang and Mr. Cramer stood from his chair with a creak. Looking somewhat bored, he picked up a stack of papers from his desk and started distributing them. I sat up eagerly in my seat. The results from the first test of the semester. I'd spent days poring over my chemistry book in preparation. Hopefully it had paid off. Mr. Cramer stopped at my desk and gave me a little smile as he placed my paper face down. Once he'd moved on, I wasted no time in flipping it over.

**99**. I blinked at the two digits. Only _99_? I missed one?! I flipped through the exam impatiently. There! Marked by a big red X. As my eyes traced the question, I sank lower into my seat dejectedly. Of course! Hydrogen bonds weren't strong bonds. They were primarily formed by _inter_molecular forces not _intra_molecular like covalent bonds. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Now, I'm not really that obsessive when it comes to grades. Sure, I usually get straight As, but I can tolerate a mistake or two. But chemistry was my niche! How could I mess up like that?

The rest of the class passed uneventfully, with me answering questions listlessly as I dwelled on my score. I almost didn't hear the bell ring. The class filed out pretty quickly, with Mr. Cramer sinking heavily into his chair. I stood and was by the teacher's desk when I stopped. I suppose I was too sudden, because someone behind me didn't stop in time and bumped into me. I was pushed forward into the table, and I heard a clatter as whomever crashed into me dropped their things. I turned around to see Parker looking down at his bag and skateboard.

"Oh gosh," I tittered apologetically, "I'm so sorry, let me help you." He stammered a couple polite refusals, but I was already on my knees and gathering his things. His bag had been open when it fell and several papers had escaped. I picked one up, but paused as I glanced at it. It was his graded test. His name was filled out, revealing him to be Peter Parker, and circled at the top was **100**. I must've been gaping at it for a while, because the guy cleared his throat. I looked up. He was staring at my hand, his board tucked under his arm. He had his bag open and dangling from the other hand. Sheepishly, I tucked his test into the open bag, along with the other loose papers. Peter Parker tried to smile at me, but it was small and stiff.

"Thanks." He muttered, bowing his head and leaving hurriedly. I watched him go, wondering what exactly had made him so curt with me. In the entirety of knowing him (which admittedly only amounted to two days) Peter Parker had said an approximate total of a dozen words to me. Did he not like me? Was I too snobbish to him yesterday? Did he still hold a grudge for taking his seat? Optimist that I was, I considered kinder possibilities. He did seem to stutter a lot. Maybe he had a speech impediment. Maybe he was a brooding genius with zero social skills. Maybe he had a girlfriend.

There was a cough behind me, and I realized I'd been standing in Mr. Cramer's empty class for far too long. I turned to my teacher, a blush forming against my will.

"Sir, I was wondering," I started with determination, "If there was any extra credit I could do." He looked surprised.

"Gwen, why on Earth would you want extra credit? You're top of the class." I thought of Peter's test score.

"Really?" I asked uncertainly. Mr. Cramer nodded. "But what about," I flapped my hand towards the door, "Him, Mr. Parker?"

"Oh, well, Mr. Parker is certainly intelligent, but as you may have noticed he doesn't contribute in class." He paused as something occurred to him. "Although he has answered questions on the rare occasions when you are absent and no one wants to volunteer. That's mostly an effort to move the class along. He doesn't seem to enjoy speaking up."

"Why is that?" I wondered before I could stop myself. From Mr. Cramer's look I could tell I'd passed the line.

"I shouldn't be discussing your fellow students with you, Miss Stacey." I nodded, suitably chastised. He got a sympathetic expression. "I know you're a very sweet person, and you want to reach out to others. Mr. Parker simply seems to prefer being a _loner_." He said the word with mild distain that I found unwarranted. "Don't trouble yourself." I pursed my lips and nodded, though I wasn't convinced. I left the room and headed for the library to spend my free period. I mulled over my mental image of Peter Parker. Well, loner or not, he was certainly interesting.

* * *

Peter tossed his completed test haphazardly on his desk and looked through his photo roll. He'd taken a picture of Gwen in the library, her brow gently furrowed as she was deep in thought. Unfortunately, he'd been lurking behind a shelf and hadn't been bold enough to step out when he took the shot. He sighed at the unfocused and partially obscured photo and wondered when he'd have the opportunity to take a better one.

* * *

"So you see, given the safety regulations in place and their unobtrusive nature, nuclear power is actually safer and more ecologically friendly than wind turbines." I stated clearly, looking my opponent, a boy named Kent, in the eye though I addressed the judge. "It would certainly save several species from being uprooted unceremoniously, as my opponent has failed to mention." Kent opened his mouth to object, but the judge halted him by banging his small wooden gavel.

"Sorry, but that's all the time we have." The president of the Panthers' Debate Club announced. Kent slumped, knowing he had lost. "Point goes to Gwen." Our secretary wrote it down in her notebook. I beamed; I currently had the most wins in the club. "We've got one more thing to do before we finish up." The president continued. Several people who had been eager to leave sank back into their chairs. "Yearbook wants our group picture done soon, so we've got it scheduled for next Monday at lunch. Try to look your best, everyone." Some of the members grumbled, but I was excited. I started to mentally plan my outfit; something simple and conservative, but still modestly attractive. Colleges would be seeing this, after all.

I picked up my bag and and my latest reading material, _Fathers and Sons_. I don't know why, but I liked Russian literature best. It was so weighty, so full of philosophy in a way European writers like Jane Austen could never amount to. I was already halfway through it and eager to finish. I hugged the novel to my chest as I headed outside. The halls were empty, as Debate Club was an extracurricular that went pretty late.

Knowing this, I was surprised when I saw a group of guys huddled in a circle by the football field. I guess practice ran long too. I paused when I heard a familiar voice.

"Come on, catch it Parker!" Flash. The big lug I tutored. There was no mistaking his taunting tone. I knew he was a bit of a braggart but I hadn't thought he was cruel. Groaning to myself, I strode over to them. I recognized several guys from the football and basketball teams in the crowd. I pushed through them, until I could see the action. Flash and two of his friends stood in a rough triangle, tossing something small and black between them. In the middle of the ring was Peter Parker. He looked so exasperated, but was still making a valiant effort to reclaim his property. I belatedly recognized it as an old fashioned film camera.

"Seriously guys," He muttered gruffly as he came close to catching it, "This is getting old." Flash laughed mockingly and I'd had enough.

"Eugene!" I called, cutting harshly through the noise. I knew the use of his first name would get his attention. Flash froze, the camera slipping through his fingers. It crashed to the floor, the lens cap falling off. Peter stooped to pick it up, glancing at me quickly. I moved my gaze between him and Flash, my expression stony. I gestured with my head for Flash to follow me. He gulped and walked towards me. Seeing the guys begin to disperse, I sent a smile towards Peter before turning and heading towards the road. I tried not to think about how he didn't look remotely grateful.

"What do you think you were doing?" I demanded once we were out of earshot of anyone else. Flash shrugged stiffly.

"It was only a bit of fun, Gwen." He said defensively. I shook my head in disgust.

"Monkey in the middle, Flash? Really? What are we, five?" He crossed his arms, trying to maintain his tough-guy persona.

"We were just messing with Parker. He's nobody. What do you care?" I tried not to think about that completely reasonable question.

"If I see you '_messing_' with him, or anyone else for that matter," I added hurriedly, trying not to show preferential treatment, "I will tell your Mom." Flash's eyes grew wide at the threat. I knew his mother was an incredibly formidable woman who would not appreciate his acting out. I looked him hard in the eye. "You got that?" He nodded meekly, his lower lip protruding in a pout. Curiosity got the better of me. "Why Parker? He's never done anything to you, has he?" He shrugged again, looking uncomfortable.

"Like I said, he's nobody. He's just a geek, always going around with that stupid camera, skating around like he's so cool, it's ridiculous." I rolled my eyes, and stepped out onto the crosswalk. "You know," He called after me, "You might be my tutor and everything but you can't just embarrass me like that! I've got a rep. here!" Feeling no sympathy for him, I didn't turn around.

"Behave!" I reprimanded him once more, still stalking away.

* * *

Peter slouched home, grumbling to himself. If only he could've fought back against Flash (or Eugene, apparently). If only he hadn't needed her to save him. He couldn't help thinking about Gwen and Flash, how _cozy_ they'd seemed. Flash obviously liked her, he wouldn't have followed her otherwise. His head was filled with visions of the two of them, Gwen's pretty face looking at the bully adoringly. He wanted to punch something.

* * *

I didn't really interact with Peter Parker for the rest of the week. He didn't linger in any of our shared classes and I didn't have the nerve to approach him without a good reason. I think it was safe to say that my fascination had escalated to infatuation. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Cute, funny, intelligent… Sure, he was a loner, but maybe he wouldn't mind me trying to be his friend. Or, you know, more than that.

I lined up with the Debate Club. I stood by Kent; even if we weren't friends exactly we respected one another and he was the closest acquaintance I had in the club. We were in our usual classroom, but the desks had been pushed aside and a row of chairs lined up against one wall. I stood behind the line of chairs with the president, vice president (Kent), and secretary, an honor bestowed to me due to my high performance. I smoothed my cardigan down, feeling butterflies for no real reason.

"Okay," A male voice announced, "Everything looks good." I looked up in surprise. It was Peter, standing behind a tripod. He was staring down into the eyepiece of the camera, one I didn't recognize. I wondered if Flash had broken his camera. I bit my lip, feeling myself blush. I hadn't expected to see him here. I suddenly wished I'd worn something more appealing, not just a frumpy gray sweater. Peter raised his head, surveying our group of half a dozen. When his eyes landed on me I smiled shyly. He blinked a couple times, like he was surprised to see me too. Then he ducked down and fiddled with his camera some more. "Uh, lower left, could you scoot your chair in a bit." He directed. There was some movement on the lowest level. "You sir, in the sweater vest, how about you stand up there." Things passed like this for a little while as he organized us into the best formation. Then he paused, his adam's apple bobbing. "Um, er, s-second to the right," He said, glancing at me, "You're a little too close to that guy, can you take a step to the left?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." I stammered as I inched away from Kent. He nodded once I was far enough.

"Great, that's great." He said. He sighed a little, keeping his gaze trained on the camera. "Alright, everyone smile." I grinned at the lens with all my might. The flash went off. "Good, okay, one more." Another flash. "Perfect!" He smiled at us all and I realized I really liked his goofy grin. It was sweet and endearing. "I'll process it and it should be up in the display case in a couple of days." He picked up the tripod and lifted a hand in a small wave. "See ya." He walked out of the gym, and I had to fight the urge to follow him. What would I do if I caught up to him anyway?

He didn't even know my name.

* * *

Peter spent the entire night going over that picture. He fixed all the little imperfections quickly, color corrected it and added contrast. He stared at her image for so long, his mouse hovering over her face uselessly. Feeling like a complete creep, he cropped Gwen out and set her as his desktop wallpaper.

* * *

I was sitting in the yard, reading _Fathers and Sons_ before I had to go to Chemistry. My lunch was already eaten and thrown away and I knew there was still fifteen minutes left. I was so immersed in Turgenev's words, that I didn't notice the chanting until it was too late. I looked up as the chorus of "Eat it, eat it" increased, and I saw a ring of students. That was almost never good. I stuffed my novel away and picked up my chemistry textbook. I pushed through the crowd until I could hear what was going on.

"Hey, Parker, come on!" I cringed as I heard Flash's voice. "Get a picture of this, come on!" Peter's now unmistakeable soft tone followed.

"I'm not gonna take a picture of this." He said plainly. "Put him down, man." He pleaded, the only one aside from me in the group who seemed to be worried. "Put him down, man." I wasn't sure what exactly was happening, so I stood on my tiptoes to look over someone's shoulder. I gasped. Flash was holding this kid upside down and planting his face in spaghetti and meatballs. Flash was alternating his attention between his victim and Peter. Peter spoke up again, addressing the kid with sympathy. "Don't eat it. Don't eat it."

"Take the picture, Parker!" Flash demanded again.

"Put him down, Flash." Peter repeated. I knew I had to act soon. Flash obviously didn't respond well to public humiliation, so I decided to carry out my threat. I left the group and pulled out my cellphone, clicking the contact number in there for emergencies.

"Mrs. Thompson?" I asked into the phone.

"Speaking."

"Hi, it's Gwen Stacey, Flash's tutor." I covered my other ear as the the voices grew more intense.

"Oh, hello dear, how—"

"Put him down!" I heard Peter shout. "Eugene!" My blood ran cold. Flash absolutely hated that name. He only tolerated his mother using it, and I got away with it because even he wouldn't hit a girl. But Peter was not so lucky. I turned just in time to see through a gap of people as Flash dropped the kid and immediately punched Peter right in the face. He went down hard.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed into the phone.

"What? What is it?" Flash's mother asked quickly. "What's going on?"

"Your son is attacking another student!" I told her hurriedly.

"_What_!"

"Yes, he was tormenting this other boy and this guy tried to stop him and now— Oh God!" I heard a thump and looked over in time to see Flash's foot moving away from Peter's stomach. "I've got to go, I've got to stop this." I moved closer to the circle and saw Peter crawling on the ground.

"I'm still not taking the picture." He groaned breathlessly. I gave a vaguely hysterical laugh in relief. If he was well enough to crack jokes, he'd probably survive.

"Once that boy gets home…" Mrs. Thompson trailed off ominously.

"Oh believe me," I muttered, "I'll make him pay during tutoring."

"Bring him back in one piece so I can have a shot at him."

"Will do." With that promise, I ended the call. I pushed through the crowd with fire in my eyes. Maybe it showed, because parsing the people was easier this time around. I saw Peter hunched on the ground but couldn't stop to see if he was alright.

"Who wants some more!" Flash yelled to people's cheers. I paused behind him. "Huh? Huh?" That my peers were showing him adulation instead of disgust spurred me to action.

"Flash!" I said sharply. He flinched, knowing he was caught. I approached him and stopped when we were close enough to appear to be having a normal conversation. This didn't really involve the rest of them, though it was entirely his fault that this confrontation have so many witnesses. I smiled slightly to myself. With my textbook hugged to my chest I'm sure I made a very meek picture. Flash knew better, however. He was watching me warily, wondering how I was going to chew him out. Oh, he had no idea.

"Flash, are we still on for after school today?" I asked, far more pleasantly than anyone had expected. "My house, three thirty?" He was confused at my brusque yet composed tone. I heard buzzing around us but ignored them as I carried on purposefully. "I hope you've been doing your homework. Last time I was," I paused meaningfully, an ironic smile on my face, "Very disappointed in you." Flash was pissed now, but was making an effort to appear apologetic.

"Okay, listen—"

"No, Flash," I cut him off, a fraction of my true irritation bleeding through, "How about we go to class, hmm?" By now I was addressing the entire group of students, who had obediently began to disperse. When Flash didn't move, I prompted him. "How about it?" He was upset, but knew better than to mess with me in this state.

"Whatever." He muttered apathetically. The warning bell rang, and I wished it could've come just a couple minutes earlier. I looked around, my gaze landing on Peter still on the ground. He was staring up at me, but I couldn't read his expression. Did he not like that I stepped in? Was he ashamed that a girl had fought his battle for him? Or maybe he was just dazed from the fight. I decided to assume that was the reason for his blank stare. I contemplated helping him up, apologizing, but didn't think I was familiar enough with him to do that without it being incredibly awkward. Flash began to walk away, and I followed him silently. I know, it was the coward's way out, but maybe I could make it up to him somehow.

"Jerk." I muttered to Flash before we forked off to different classes. His shoulders hunched, but I felt no sympathy as I headed to Chemistry.

I made the conscious decision to sit in the back, by the left near the windows, where I knew Peter chose to sit most often. I set my textbook down and waited. Sure enough, Peter trudged in and settled heavily into the desk I knew he would. From my periphery I could see him cross his arms on the desk and put his head down. There were still a few minutes until the starting bell sounded. I twirled my pen in a nervous gesture. This was my chance. I had to tell him _something_. I waited for a moment before broaching the subject.

"I thought that was great," I blurted out, making him raise his head to look at me, "What you did back there. It was stupid," I added quickly, because _come on_, what did he think was going to happen, he was cute and all but he wasn't made of muscle like Flash, "But it was great." He seemed to appreciate the compliment, but he was still staring at me sort of blankly, like a neanderthal who'd been clubbed on the back of the head. "You should probably go to the nurse, you might have a concussion." I said, taking his silence and expression as further proof. "What's your name?" He shook his head slightly, looking sort of disappointed but mostly confused.

"You don't know my name?" Peter asked, his eyes narrowed slightly and his lips parted.

"No, I know your name." I corrected him quickly. That was about the only thing I knew, but that wasn't the point. "I just wanna know if _you_ know your name." The corner of his lip quirked up, like a fledgling smirk.

"Peter…" He said quietly, pursing his lips. There was a long pause that wasn't very reassuring. I frowned and lowered my chin, my expression expecting. "Parker." He finished more strongly, just a huff of a laugh tinting his voice. I nodded quickly in relief. "Peter Parker."

"Okay, good." I smiled and faced front again. There was a lull in our conversation, if you could call it that at all. I wanted to say more, but I didn't know how to. What do you say to the guy you've been hyperaware of for only a week but you already _really_ like? How do I show him I care? I turned around again to see he'd stopped looking at me. "I'd still go to the nurse though." I repeated, feeling kind of silly for bothering him. He glanced my way again, slumping further over his desk.

"You're Gwen, right?" He asked, brow furrowed. I gave a short nod of my head and ignored the flutter in my stomach.

"Gwen Stacy." I elaborated, feeling overly formal. Peter smiled, just a little, but I had to look away as Mr. Cramer stood and began to lead the class. I hardly heard him though.

So Peter _did_ know who I am. _Awesome_. I could work with this.

* * *

Peter went home in the best mood he could remember. He'd completely forgotten about the bruises on his face until Uncle Ben and Aunt May pointed them out. It took a shocking discovery and a wave of nostalgia and yearning to push Gwen from his mind.

But not for long

* * *

**Yes, my love of this fandom grows more by the day. This is a silly little fluff piece that wouldn't leave me alone. I hope people like it.**

**I guess I had my first flop. My last fic _Manly Resolve_, also about Spider-Man, has had 0 reviews, a first for me. I really do write for myself, but it helps to have feedback. No feedback is still telling in and of itself though.**** I was being sort of experimental, so I've learned something from the experience. People don't like reading the same story twice, no matter what spin you put on it. Oh well.**

**I've got more in the works, possibly something a little outside my comfort zone. We'll see...**

**Laury.**


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